village.

Hansei plainly told him that he wouldn't lend money to any one, for
that changed one's friends into foes. The friendly tale-bearer soon
took his leave.

Living in the village had ceased to be a pleasure to them. The closing
of the inn doors against Hansei was only the beginning. No one, of his
own accord, bade him or his wife "good-day," and their greetings were
scarcely returned. Walpurga, who had grown accustomed to being praised
and esteemed by those about her, was often very sad. What vexed her
most of all was that the story of the wager had been passed from mouth
to mouth, and had become so distorted that it was scarcely fit to be
repeated. It seemed as if the privacy of the marital chamber had been
revealed to the world and discussed in the market-place. She felt
insecure in her own house. Every noise frightened her, though it were
merely a barking dog, or the elder-bush brushing against the roof.
Every night, before going to sleep, she would try the window-shutters,
to see that they were firmly closed.

"I don't believe," said she, "that great folk are half so bad as
villagers."

"Indeed!" said the mother. "I don't know anything about them; but from
what I've heard, the quality are just as good and just as bad as the
common folk. It don't depend on the clothes."

"You're just like Countess Brinkenstein. If you'd been obliged to spend
all your life in the palace, you'd have been just like her." thought
Walpurga to herself, while she looked at her mother.

Walpurga's mind was agitated by contending emotions. She was obliged to
reconcile two distinct spheres of life; the court and the village, and,
in imagination, would often transplant villagers to the court and _vice
versa_.

She was sometimes quite bewildered, and scarcely able to distinguish
what she had only imagined from what she had really experienced.

Hansei would listen to his wife and her mother discussing people and,
with a smile, would think to himself:

"How changeable the women are; there's nothing consistent about them."

After Hansei had, for two or three evenings, resisted his inclination
to go to the inn, he was merrier than ever.

"I'm glad," said he, "that I can give up a habit, if necessary. I
really think I could give up smoking, too."

Those dull days served to show the difference between the dispositions
of Hansei and his wife. To the superficial observer, Walpurga, so
cheerful and wide-awake, would seem the superio